"That is the surface!" she spoke exultingly—
"The water is calm and still below;
For the winds and waves are absent there,—
And the sands are bright as the stars that glow
In the motionless fields of upper air."
"Those are fine lines!" said Ida. They were recited with a purity of tone and emphasis that lent them an additional charm.
"They are Percival's," was the reply. "I love poetry, if I have not, like one of my friends, received the poetic afflatus. Ah! Improvisatrice! did you think me ignorant of your glorious gift?"
"You honour my petty talent by a higher name than it aspires to earn. Your informant was given to exaggeration."
"You do not ask who it was!" cried Lelia, peeping into her face. "Ah! that blush! you surmise. Now my demure darling, how will you excuse yourself for not having breathed his name in my hearing, when you knew how deep my interest is in all relating to him or his connections?"
This query was ably turned; but Ida's habitual self-control saved her from the pitfall. She would know and confess nothing.
"And you dare look in my eyes and deny one of your best friends?" said Lelia.
"I deny no one. The merest acquaintance may have imparted this information."